Everything was ready. His shirt and pants were pressed,
his tie straight, his hair combed. After taking one last look in the mirror he
strolled out the door, grabbing the rose he’d bought earlier that day.
The spring air was fresh, but pleasantly warm. He opened
up his lungs, taking in as much air as he could, and smiled as he exhaled.
Elated, he continued down the block.
He arrived at the corner before her. He waited under the
streetlamp expectantly.
The first sign of her presence was her perfume. He turned
around and she was there. She was beautiful.
She stood there, unmoving. Her hair danced slowly in the soft wind, and she looked at him, waiting.
ReplyDeleteIt had been 5 years since he had seen her. Nothing had changed, and possibly everything had changed. He wanted to run to her, but somehow didn't know how to. He just looked back.
They stood there, staring at each other for a moment. Then, she smiled. She looked down at the ground, a shy habit, and then looked back up. Her eyes flicked to the rose in his hand, and she breathed.
"Red. You remembered."